Antique
by knittedcoffee
Summary: Tomione. Non-magic (sort of) AU. College student Hermione Granger is dragged to a dingy antique shop by the girl she babysits, only to find her destiny - and her past. Warnings: language, graphic death, murder, violence.
1. Part 1

_**Antique**_

Tomione Spring Soulmate Challenge (that's a season late)

One-shot. Non-magic (sort of) & Modern AU

Summary: College student Hermione Granger is dragged to a dingy antique shop by the girl she babysits, only to find her destiny - and her past.

Rating: M

Warnings: language, graphic death (and murder), violence

 **Miss Herm-my-own-ee**

"Fine, Luna, we can go into the shop, but only for a minute!" Hermione called out to the young girl, but she had already dashed into the brick building. Hermione sighed and put her hands on her hips, looking up at the sign. It read, "Marvolo's Antique Emporium" in peeling black letters on the green wooden board.

Hermione, currently on her semester abroad in London, was babysitting for her journalism Professor Xenophilius Lovegood. Her teacher, while a little zany, was none the less a good man, and his daughter was a tiny wisp of a girl who loved playing pretend. Hermione didn't mind the girl playing games or being creative, but what concerned her was that Luna believed all of it to be true. And today's "positively true thing, Miss Herm-my-own-ee" was that there was a man who was over two thousand years old in this magical shop. It was at times like this Hermione longed for her mother's counsel, but she was halfway across the globe in Sydney for a business conference while her Dad kept on eye on things at home in Virginia.

Begrudgingly, Hermione entered the shop and was immediately overwhelmed but the dryness of the air - as if someone had vacuum-sealed the room shut for a very long time. Particles of dust hung in the air, unmoving and paralyzed. Time seemed to have forgotten this little shop in the back alley of Fleet Street. The floors were weathered from years of muddy boots and - was that dried blood?

"Luna, honey, we need to leave," Hermione called out in as calm a voice as she could. The shop was not too big, but shadowy enough that it could hide people in its depths, and it seemed to have swallowed little Luna whole.

"Oh, but I just found the most wondrous thing Miss Herm-my-own-ee", Luna pleaded while over pronouncing Hermione's name. "They have a mermaid skeleton over here!" Following the high pitched voice, Hermione finally found the blonde child by a darkly lit glass case full of odd skeletons.

"Luna," Hermione pleaded her before she was interrupted.

"You need to leave." Hermione looked around but could not find the source of the voice. " _Now!"_ The voice hissed. Hermione looked down and saw a giant, angry snake with its fangs out and ready to eat them. She grabbed Luna and darted for the front door, but the handle wouldn't budge. Hermione began to panic and tried to shove against the door, but it did nothing.

"HELP!" Luna began to scream. Hermione stood in front of Luna, ready to take the snake bite for her as the beast came lunging forward. Luckily, there was an umbrella stand right next to the door and Hermione seized an umbrella, wielding it like she had seen Gandalf wield his staff in _Lord of the Rings_.

"Nagini!" A boy's high-pitched voice shouted over the pandemonium. He cried something else that she can barely make it out - he sounded like a squealing water pipe ready to burst. The snake still leapt forward, despite the boy's commands. She was able to swat it away with the rusted and weather umbrella, but not before it bit her in the arm. And then suddenly, the room went black.


	2. Part 2

**The Boy Who Lived and the Phantom Green**

Hermione woke up to find a pair of red eyes intensely staring at her. She tried to sit up, but all her blood seems to rush to her head and she felt woozy.

"Where's Luna?" she practically growled.

"Right here," Luna chirped as she popped up at the foot of the green fainting couch Hermione was lying on. While this consoled Hermione, she immediately became distressed when she saw _that snake_ draped around little Luna like a scarf.

"Get that thing away from me!" Hermione screeched as she backed up as far as she could without getting nauseous. The snake hissed at her, but Luna calmed the reptile by petting its head.

"I apologize for Nagini's behaviour," the little boy explained. "She's been trained to be protective of her master, especially against . . ."

"Against what?"

"Against _you_ ," the boy murmured. He seemed like an average little Asian boy, not much older than Luna, with shaggy black hair and fiery red eyes under a pair of thick glasses. But his voice was so mature, so tired - like he had been at war for centuries.

"What do you mean, against me? What the fu-" Hermione remembered to censor herself in front of Luna. "fudge are you talking about? And why does this snake's owner feel the need to be protected from me?" The boy eyed something or someone behind her before standing up from the footstool. "Okay, if you're not going to answer my question, I'm going to get going. C'mon Luna." Hermione tried to sit up, but the boy held her down.

"You can't leave," Hermione writhed under the boy's touch, trying to escape, but he continued to speak it that same solemn manner, "We need you. You're the only one who can set us free." Hermione stopped trying to escape and gawked at the boy.

"Set you free? From what?" The boy hesitantly glanced above her head to look at something - though she could have sworn it was a _someone_ \- before nodding his head and speaking again.

"Our master both protects us and traps us here."

"Who else is with you?" The boy looked above her head again but said nothing. "Is this all about you not being able to go to the park or something? Sweetie, I'm sure if I talked to your mom or dad-" but he cut her off.

"My parents are dead."

"Okay, well, whatever adult takes care of you."

"I _am_ an adult."

"You're very mature, but you're like, what, maybe nine? Ten? You aren't old enough to be an adult." The boy closed his eyes and Hermione immediately regretted her remark, he looked so sad.

"I've been nine for seventy years," He said it so quietly she could have sworn she it was all in her head. Louder now, he repeated, " _ **I've been nine for seventy years and I will never age a day."**_ Harry's voice rose, quivering all the while. " _ **And I will never be able to leave this shop and live a normal life until HE,**_ " he pointed above her, to the second floor of the shop, " _ **reunites all of the pieces of his soul!"**_

"Harry, do you want him to hear you?" A voice behind her whisper-shouted.

" _ **I don't care he if hears me! He thinks he saved me when that the bomb dropped - that I'm lucky because I'm 'The Boy Who Lived'!"**_ A ball of uncontrollable rage, he turned his face up towards the ceiling, where the mysterious 'master' was. " _ **But the only thing you've done is made me another antique for your collection!"**_ Without speaking, Luna gingerly grabbed Harry's hand and gave it a consoling squeeze. None the less, Harry's brow furrowed as he sank further into the stool, concaving in on himself in pouty, brooding anger.

"Why don't you show Luna all the exhibits in the back?" The voice behind her encouraged. Begrudgingly, Harry rose from his stool and escorted Luna away from the couch and behind her, where the rest of the store waited in the shadows.

"You'll have to forgive him; Harry's been through a lot. We all have." The voice moved into Hermione's peripheral vision and she saw a ghostly woman the color of pale green cat eye's slither towards the stool. She wore a long dress that seemed to be made of iron feathers, and her hair was in a similar wrap. What was really eerie were her eyes - a bright golden color rimmed in black kohl.

"I'm Basil. Basil Isk." Hermione swallowed. The green phantom of a woman extended her hand and Hermione cautiously shook it, forcing herself not to recoil at Basil's cold and scaly touch.

"I'm Hermione Granger."

"It's good to finally meet you after all these years. Your aura has over the shop and every item in it for so long . . ." Basil trailed off.

"What exactly are you - if you don't mind my asking?"

"I'm the shop demon."

"Shop what?"

"Shop demon. I'm a demon spirit, and the shop is my hearth and life source." Hermione couldn't help but cringe at the thought. "The shop has been in his family," she gestured up to the second floor, where the mysterious master supposedly was, "for thousands of years. And most of those years have been under his reign."

"He sounds like a monster."

"Of sorts, I suppose. His quest for immortality has done that; he wasn't always this way. Not at the beginning."

"Are they vampires?" Hermione propped herself up so that she was sitting upright on the couch.

"No. Just pieces of soul frozen in a part of their journey."

Hermione nodded despite not really understanding and glanced at the strange objects around her. They had everything from shrunken heads to dusty tomes to strange metal cabinets.

"He's a collector, as you can see," Basil explained.

"I take it the antiquing business is quite, uh . . . profitable?"

"These aren't just antiques, they're horcruxes." Hermione must have given a baffled expression because Basil rushed to explain. "Horcruxes are objects where people hide fragments of their soul, allowing them to be immortal." What was more disturbing than what she just said was how calm, even content, Basil was about it. "I promise it doesn't sound as weird as you think. People who do not want to die pay us in favours or money, and we take their souls so they can gain immortality. We keep the souls in various items around the shop, only to be returned if the person requests or if their soulmate has been discovered."

"So, Harry has one of those things too?"

"That's where it gets a bit more complicated. Harry is actually a horcrux for the man upstairs."

Hermione tried to speak but the words weren't there. This was all so confusing, and she began to feel dizzy at the very thought of it.

"My master has seven horcruxes, and with each time he split his soul it became more and more unstable. Harry was never supposed to be a horcrux, but something went wrong and his soul attached itself to Harry. It happened during the bombing of Nagasaki in 1945."

"Holy shit," Hermione remarked, wide-eyed.

Basil nodded. "Nagini, that's the snake, is a horcrux too."

"When Harry was saying he was trapped earlier, what did he mean?"

"All horcruxes must remain in the shop. It's our way of protecting them and making sure the pieces aren't destroyed."

"How do you protect the pieces from other customers?"

"Based upon the strength of the owner, they can defend themselves to some degree. It's actually fascinating, but I won't bore you with the details."

"Why did you let Luna and I in then? We aren't looking for immortality."

"Normally there are barriers up, but . . . the minute I saw you near the shop, I knew it was you were going to be the one to set Harry and Nagini free and save him," she tilted her head up towards the ceiling, "from himself."

"Who is he?" She pointed up.

"He's had many names, but he currently goes by Lord Voldemort. And he is very good at what he does. So good, in fact, that he's lost himself in the process." Above them, the floorboards creaked and whined under someone's weight. This Lord Voldemort was walking right above their heads, and it scared the shit out of Hermione.

"And why am I important in this situation?" Hermione questioned in a hushed voice as she peered up at the squeaking wooden floor sprinkling dust above her head.

"I don't know how to explain this to you without sounding crazy," Basil began, but Hermione jumped in.

"I don't think you can top what you just told me."

"I think it will."

"Well, lay it on me. It's not like it will kill me."

"Don't say that. Please don't say that," Basil begged, desperation in her eyes.

"Huh?"

"Don't joke about death - especially your own. Not after all you've been through." Hermione gawked at Basil, unsure of how to respond. "You don't remember anything yet, do you?" Basil asked gingerly.

"Remember what?" Basil let out a long sigh.

"I thought being in the shop would be enough to bring them back. Clearly it . . ." she trailed off. "How could I have been so naive!" she muttered to herself. Suddenly, the floor boards began to creak once more above their heads, but this time they slowly spread from one side of the room to the other. Hermione turned around, seeing that at the other side of the dimly lit room was a staircase where a shadow emerging at the top of the stairs.

"In the name of Salazar, neither of you are really ready for this," Basil bemoaned. From under the stairs, a door was flung open and Harry and Luna rushed out towards them.

"Nagini ratted us out - that little venomous-!" but Luna grabbed his arm and he was calmed.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, big-eyed and scared.

"Yes," a man's smooth baritone echoed from the stairs as heavy footfalls slowly descended the stairs, "what _are_ we going to do?" Hermione dared not look for fear of seeing this monstrous man, but she could tell that Nagini was somehow with him because she could hear sassy hisses.


	3. Part 3

**The Monster and the Man**

Gradually walking from the bottom of the stairs to where the group was huddled, the man or monster who went by Lord Voldemort began to chuckle. It was not a light-hearted laugh or a funny laugh, but rather the smarmy laugh of war, like a cat who caught a bird with a broken wing, encircling its food and taunting it before diving in for the kill.

"Basil, dear, did you let in a customer and not notify me? We aren't due to see the Malfoy family for Draco's first appointment for another year or so." When she did not respond, he sighed and tutted at her. "Naughty Basil has let in strangers, hasn't she?" He eyed Luna and sent her a cold and toothy smile that never went near touching his dark eyes.

"Back off Voldemort," Harry piped up, moving in front of Luna to protect her.

"Harry, you don't _really_ think this little thing is your soulmate, do you? You known none of that rubbish is true." Luna held onto Harry tighter for solidaritarity.

"She is, I know it." The boy declared.

"Soulmate?" Hermione scoffed. "What has the world come to? Relying on tarot cards and crystal balls and horoscopes?" She huffed and rose from her spot even though she still felt woozy. "I've had enough of this. Luna, we're leaving." She extended at her hand, but Luna shook her head.

"It's true Hermione," Luna stated in the most serious manner Hermione had ever seen from her. The babysitter, focused on the little girl, did not notice the man flinch at her name.

"You're nine years old, how could you possibly know?" Hermione crossed her arms in frustration, ignoring the pleading glances from Basil and any eye contact with the monster running this place.

"Harry, for the sake of convincing you, let's pretend there _is_ such a horrific thing," Voldemort said as he tried a new tactic to manipulate Harry. "Even if you two were soulmates, you wouldn't be able to be together."

"Yeah? Well, who's fault is that?" Harry retorted.

"Luna, your father is expecting you to be home in twenty minutes. Don't you want to go home and celebrate your father's article with the cake we made?" Hermione cajoled, but the girl shook her head.

"If Harry's not leaving, I'm not leaving." Both Hermione and Lord Voldemort deeply sighed at the same time, pinching the bridges of their nose in-sync and not even noticing it. Luna and Harry shared a knowing look, and Basil's face lit up behind them.

"Sir," Basil started, gliding towards her boss, "have you been introduced to Luna's babysitter yet?" Lord Voldemort looked up at the same time as Hermione did. His eyes widened in horror, like he had seen the Ghost of Christmas Past or a possessed Regan MacNeil from _The Exorcist_. Hermione stared back at him, unable to make a formal assessment of this . . . thing.

He was a tall man with bronze skin and slicked back black hair. His face was chiseled and sharp, like a freshly carved statue. Hermione could picture him wearing a golden Grecian wreath around his head and having himself worshipped as a god. His clothes were well-made and modern - apparently, being alive for hundreds and thousands of years gives one a good fashion taste. But what stood out presently about him were his glittering red eyes. She suddenly began to question Basil's statement earlier about him _not_ being a vampire.

"You need to leave," he stated in an emotionless voice, never breaking eye contact with her.

"Trust me, I want to." Yet the children still clung together in fierce stubbornness.

He tilted his head slightly. "Your accent - it's American?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So what are you doing here?"

"Semester abroad - I'm a classics major." He glared at Basil but continued talking to Hermione.

"My name is Lord Voldemort." He made no offer of shaking hands, but chose to straighten his suit instead, as if he was bored with the whole affair.

"But that's not who you really are."

Lord Voldemort spoke gravelly, saying, "Μάθε να φοβάσαι αυτό το όνομα, αν γνωριζεις τι ειναι καλο για σένα". _Learn to fear that name, if you know what's good for you._

"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself," she countered.

"So you know then..." he mused darkly.

"I'm not sure what you're referring to exactly, but if it's that you're a lunatic trying to be immortal and who has carved up his soul and placed those pieces into objects and people, then **yes** , I know."

"Do you ever have deja vu?" He asked suddenly, his disturbing eyes still boring into her skull.

She shrugged. "Everyone does. So what?"

"What about false memories? Do you ever have moments where you imagine something terrible happening that hasn't really happened to you?"

"I don't see the point of this," she seethed while crossing her arms in protest.

"Do you have those kinds of incidents?" He pressed, leaning towards her.

"Yes!" She exclaimed angrily. "I have irrational fears based on things that have never happened, but most people do!"

"What kinds of things do you fear?" He inched closer towards her so that they were an arms length apart.

"I dunno, falling downstairs? Poison?" She angrily gestured to Nagini, who was still coiled around Lord Voldemort's form. "Choking? Out of control fires? Being stabbed? Drowning? Failure?" She hadn't realized that she choked on the last word, unconsciously aware that this was her worst fear. Lord Voldemort stepped even closer, a mere finger's length away. He loomed over her but she tilted her head up in defiance. She would refused to be afraid of the handsome menace.

"Failure of what?" He demanded.

"I hardly think I need to explain myself to you all people," she huffed. He cocked his head to one side, watching her with harsh eyes.

"Why did you come to England?" He asked, suddenly changing topics.

"I already told you, I'm a Classic Major."

"No, but why _England_?" He stressed. "You could have gone to France, Italy, Greece, Spain, Turkey - anywhere."

"I've just always wanted to go. I sort of felt a-" Lord Voldemort interjected and finished the thought.

"-pull?"

"Yeah." She raised her eyebrows in surprise - how did he know? But Lord Voldemort was scowling at Basil.

"You took down the protective charm, didn't you?" His eyes lit up with an angry fire, and he strode towards Basil's shaking form. She didn't answer the question, so he wrapped his fingers around her neck, lifting her up off the floor. "Didn't you?!" Hermione grabbed his shoulder, trying to pull him off of Basil.

"Let go of her!"

"She isn't supposed to be here, Basil Isk!" He shouted, ignoring Hermione's vice-like grip on him. "She's supposed to be far away from me and _safe_!" Hermione noticed his voice waver at the end and some part of her wanted to just hug him, but the rational part of her mind knew that he was trying to hurt Basil and that this was not a cute, cuddly man.

Hermione pushed against his chest, but nothing came of it except Basil wriggling more under Lord Voldemort's touch. Desperate, Hermione attempted to pry his hands off of the demon's neck by scratching long, deep cuts into the backs of his hand and wrist. At first contact with the blood, which ran silver, Hermione stumbled back - something had come over her.

Lord Voldemort stopped what he was doing, dropping Basil so he could hold onto Hermione.

Hermione's vision swirled, and suddenly she was seeing the world in hazy sepia color.


	4. Part 4

**Ursulina de Jesus**

 _She was standing on a wooden platform, hands and feet tied to the post that kept her prisoner. In the ferocious crowd waiting for their show below, she saw her husband, Sebastiano, was standing to the side, smiling up at her. His mistress, Cesaria, stood proudly next to him, hand wrapped around his shoulders. Had they no shame? And then Cesaria had the gall to wink at her._

 _Just then the parade of death walked towards her - the judge, the priest, and the man carrying the torch. The three stood before her, the torch bearer standing front and center._

" _Ursulina de Jesus, you stand here today, have been convicted of heresy, for your use of witchcraft to make your husband sterile," the old priest's wheezing voice declared. "And for your crime you have been sentenced to burn at the stake for all of São Paulo to see."_

" _Do you have any last words?" The judge asked in his usually monotonous and flat tone._

" _I am an innocent woman, and the only crime I am guilty of is marrying an unfaithful husband!"_

" _Clearly, that's not true. How else would you be here today?" The priest wheeze-laughed, and the crowd went into a wild frenzy._

" _Then in the name of God I will rise again." The crowd quieted down at that._

" _Burn her," commanded the judge, and the torch-bearer stepped forward. She recognized him as one of the merchants who had recently arrived from Spain, but she had never seen him up close. They made eye contact, and she could have sworn on all the saints that she knew this man. His eyes had so familiar a gleam to them . . . but perhaps it was the smoke in her eyes. He had been lighting the lowest parts of the pyre, but stopped. He was gazing up at her in awe._

" _Señor Marvolo, please. Burn her now!" The priest commanded. The man with the torch, Marvolo, continued to slowly lit the bundles of wood around her before reaching the main area that would set her ablaze, right at her feet._

" _Please, God, please!" She began to cry. The flames were encircling her now. Marvolo made eye contact with her one more time and she suddenly called out to him, "Θωμά!" No one else seemed to hear - there was a sensational fervor in the cheering people - except the man._ Thomas, _she thought_ , his name is Thomas. _He winced at the sound of his true name and squeezed his eyes shut._

"καίγονται και αφήστε μου με ειρήνη , παλιά αγάπη." _He murmured as he dropped the torch on her feet. And she began to cry in earnest, because she had understood what Thomas had said._ Burn and leave me in peace, old love. _The flames began to climb, and she couldn't help but scream. The people went wild and cheered, throwing oily rags at her to speed up the process. All eyes were on her except the ones she craved._

" _Θωμά!" She kept wailing, but he would not like at her._

" _She's speaking in the Devil's tongue," he explained to the judge and priest. They agreed and watched her happily. The pain was unspeakable, but even worse than that was knowing that Thomas had abandoned her - had_ killed her _once again._ I will rise again, _she repeated to herself over and over, until she couldn't breathe and couldn't feel and-_


	5. Part 5

**An Answer and a Question**

Hermione snapped back into reality and out of the vision. Lord Voldemort had one hand firmly gripping her arm holding her steady. Basil and Lord Voldemort were staring at her, and she realized that she had only just now stopped screaming.

"Hermione?" He asked cautiously. She didn't respond, couldn't, really - the words clung to her charcoaled throat. Lord Voldemort - Señor Marvolo- Thomas - her killer - was standing before her. "It was São Paulo you saw, wasn't it? The fire," but she silenced him with a strong slap that echoed in the quiet room.

"You set me on fire!" Hermione raged. "I was innocent and you knew it, but you still let me burn!" He glanced at her with a guilty gaze. "And apparently, there have been other times - other murders and other blood on your hands!"

"What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry?" He flung his arms out in exasperation.

"No! I want an answer about what the hell is going on!"

"There isn't just a simple answer for everything Hermione!"

"Well you can't just murder me again!"

"Soulmates," Basil blurted out. "You're soulmates. That's the short version." Hermione's jaw dropped open and Thomas looked like he didn't know whether to choke Basil again or to vomit.

"Am I in some sick, twisted fun house or something? Because there is no way in hell that, _thing_ ," she jabbed a finger towards Thomas, "is supposed to be my 'soulmate'." Meanwhile, Thomas was rubbing his jaw in deep thought. "Luna, I don't care if you've got a crush on Harry, we're leaving right now." She rushed forward and scooped up Luna, who had begun to cry. The little girl tried to resist, but Hermione's grip on her was stronger than iron. Hermione, half-dragging and half-carrying Luna, charged towards the door before Thomas's voice called out.

"If you leave the shop, you'll die." He glanced up at her, eyes silently pleading for her not to leave.

"It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live," she quoted from Marcus Aurelius before opening the door and rushing out.

Outside of the magical hell hole, Hermione breathed in the smells of London in the spring. The temperature had dropped significantly and the sky had dawned a dusty cloak of grey clouds and possibly stars. _Had they been in the shop that long?_ It was raining too, and thick sheets of it were falling from the sky.

Hermione began to make the dash across the street when a car zoomed towards them. Distracted by everything else going on, she hadn't heard the car or seen the dimly lit lights. The car was going at full-speed and made no attempt to stop. Just as the car was about to hit them, a strong hand tugged her back by the collar of her shirt, pulling her towards safety. The driver honked his horn in retaliation. Hermione looked up to find that it had been Thomas, whose fancy suit was now being ruined by the downpour.

"What were you doing? You could have been killed!" He scolded her. Luna clambered out of her arms and raced back to the front door of the shop, where Harry was waiting.

"I'd rather be hit by a car than deal with you!"

"You insolent girl! Don't you see I'm trying to _save you?"_

"Well, last time I checked, you were in charge of me dying in past lives, so forgive me for not trusting you," she snarled back.

"Insufferable wench!" He growled.

"Arrogant and immortal jackass!" She spat. Breaking eye contact with him for a moment and looked over his shoulder and through the still open door. Harry and Luna were no where to be seen. "Luna?" She called out. Thomas whipped his head around.

"Harry!" But no answer came.

With accusing eyes, Hermione narrowed in on him. "What did you do to the kids?"

"Me? I haven't done anything, except save your neck just now. Besides, I'm not the one with magic powers," he paused as a realization came to him. "Oh Salazar."

"What?" But he didn't answer and instead grabbed her hand and ran inside, pulling Hermione behind him. The door slammed shut behind them, and all the lights went out.

"Basil!" He hollered. "Basil come out right now!" From the top of the stairs, Basil floated down, emitting a sinister green light. "What did you do to them Basil!" Without thinking, Hermione gripped his hand, and he squeezed back.

"I did what had to be done," she spoke in a monotone, emotionless voice.

"If you hurt Luna in anyway I swear to God I will find a way to destroy you," Hermione warned.

"No harm will come to them, if you find them in time. Tell me Hermione, do you like games?" Basil floated down to their level and stared at Hermione, head tilted to the side.

"Their lives aren't a game! They could die!" Thomas cried out

"Then let us hope she wins," Basil smiled.


	6. Part 6

**The Game**

"The game is simple," Basil stated as she circled around them in a predatory manner. "Find all seven pieces of his soul in their appropriate location. You will find that Harry and Luna were transfigured together. Nagini has also been altered. Hermione has exactly an hour to find them." Addressing Hermione, she continued. "You may have Voldemort's aid, but even he doesn't know which objects I've hidden them in."

"You're a monster," Hermione hissed at her.

"Monster, demon, whatever you want to call me," Basil shrugged.

"Why are you doing this?" Thomas asked.

"Because if I don't intervene, this loop will just continue to occur. And I am sick and tired of the same story just repeating itself over and over. You need to move on."

"That isn't for you to decide," Tom seethed.

"Too late. Fate has intertwined its hand with mine and now I am in control of the situation. Your hour starts now." And with that, Basil melted away from the shop, leaving them in total darkness.

"This is impossible. We'll never them all in time. We'll-" but Thomas cut off Hermione's panicked cynicism.

"We need light - go to the umbrella and grab the candles." Hermione quickly snagged a candelabra and rushed back.

Thomas, from seemingly nowhere, grabbed a box of matches and lit the candles one by one. Hermione questioned, "Why do you keep your candles with the umbrellas?"

"This her domain, and I am not to interfere with it. It's part of our agreement," he huffed in a snide tone. "I shouldn't interact with the products after they are made, since I'm the only one who can disrupt their state."

"But Basil said . . ." Hermione began.

"Basil dribbles lots of nonsense. The reality is she's a liar and a two-faced demon who would as soon bite you as let you pet her." Thomas began to move around the room with the candelabra, but realized how ineffective that was.

"Basil!" He called out. "Make the candles follow us."

"I thought I was a two-faced demon who bites?" she retorted from above them.

"You are, and you also need to mobilize the lights."

"And make your life simplier? Ha!" Basil laughed.

"If not for me, then for her," he gestured over to Hermione. Basil huffed but assented to his command, and they were now being following by a cobwebby candelabra. It was like Beauty and the Beast, but without a charming french candle as her friend and instead with a manic demon who was trying to hook her up with a beastly and beautiful immortal who had killed her on several occasions. Luna would probably try to make light of the situation, ever the optimist, but then again, Luna was also the kind of girl who tried to eat peanut butter, avocado, cinnamon, and glow stick fluid sandwiches.

They worked silently after that, scouring through every item they could, Hermione running her hands along each object. The process was slow going and the pain she felt with horcrux was unbearable.

The first: a locket in a velvet box under the cash register box. Again, she felt herself on fire. Thomas gingerly took the locket from him and unlocked the secret compartment, allowing black ash to float all around him before sinking through his skin. His skin lost some of its golden sheen, but it wasn't too significant of a change.

While they scoured for the second horcrux, Thomas explained how he had come to São Paulo and what had happened after. Hermione asked a few questions here and there because Thomas was specifically vague about anything involving her and the murders.

The second: a golden cup, perhaps Medieval, that protruded out from underneath a pile of cushions on an old ottoman. They reached for the cup at the same time, both feeling the effects of the poison she had been forced to swallow. At the same time, he ripped off the handle, allowing a green liquid to sizzle out and onto his hands. His skin once again lost its shimmer, but his natural tan skin remained.

"Constance of Normandy, 1090," Thomas explained without being prompted. "I was a traveling artist in your father's kingdom, and you recognized me immediately. Started to ask questions about my past and your husband and the other courtiers became suspicious. It was either me being discovered as a murderer and sent to the gallows, or silencing you permanently, so the choice was obvious."

She hated how simple he made it sound, how rational he made it sound. "I don't understand how you can be so - so - so _inhuman_ about it." She flung her arms out in exasperation and unknowingly whacked the musty drapes behind her, releasing an item tucked safely at their peak. "Also, you need to clean in here, because this is a _disaster_." Hermione scooped the item off the floor and shook it out. Thomas snuck up behind her and laughed.

"I had forgotten all about this," he mused. She could see the back of it, which had been engraved in gold with his name - _Tom Marvolo Riddle_.

"Why did she use your journal? Aren't you not supposed to be attached to the horcrux beforehand?"

"Emphasis on _supposed to be_ ," Thomas sighed as he leaned in over her shoulder to open to book. "Basil doesn't like playing by the rules, even if she's the one who made them." With one of his arms around her, he flipped to the last entry in the book, undated, and Hermione felt a horrible stabbing sensation. As quickly as he could, Thomas magically pulled the words off the very page and inhaled them like the were a pungent perfume. Hermione couldn't help but notice how close he was to her and, oddly enough, how comforting it was. She was far less anxious now than she had been half an hour ago when the game started.

"When did you stab me?" Hermione asked as they were rummaging through a chest of vintage clothes.

"Colonial period of the Ghana empire in Africa during an Annual Custom of Dahomey. And since I was a slave trade captain, I had the honor of slaying the first sacrifice, which was you. Aha!" he cheered in triumph as he unburied a statue of Shiva. Hermione reached over to touch it when the snake wrapped around the statue's neck came to life and slithered around Thomas's arm.

"I guess we found Nagini," Hermione noted.

"Ow!" Thomas suddenly cried out - the stone snake had bitten him, and as the stone liquid seeped in, it sucked up the silver in his blood and left it a rich scarlet. At the same time, Hermione felt her windpipe tighten and she couldn't breathe. Her hand reached for her throat, and her chest swelled at it tried to remain full of air, but it was of no use. It was being squeezed out of her and she felt as if her brain was going to explode. Desperately, she clung onto Thomas's bad arm. He removed the statue from her grasp (for the snake had finally transformed into Nagini).

She sputtered out a few gasp, and Thomas kept her steady. When she felt a little better, she smacked his bad arm.

"Choking? Really?!"

"I didn't have anything else to kill you with - we were in Emperor Nero's fighting pits and had lost our weapons."

"For someone who has a steady business, you seem to constantly be switching jobs," she remarked as she gingerly touched her neck.

"What's the point of living forever if you don't go out and enjoy your life?" He shrugged his shoulders.

She stopped in her tracks. "So wait, murdering me is _enjoyable_ to you?"

"No, that's not what I meant, what I-" but Basil interrupted.

"Fifteen minutes," she noted, her face appearing in the old fire place like a glowing menace.

"Never mind. Let's just find the other three so I can leave and you can murder me later."

It was an unspoken agreement for them to search in separate parts of the room - Hermione was investigating by the stairs and Thomas was digging through a battered wardrobe in the opposite corner.

"You should rename the shop, 'The Room of Hidden Things'," Hermione chided.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny," he indulged humorlessly. But by the backpack Harry kept next to the stair cupboard (he liked to go in their to hide and do whatever seventy year old/nine-year olds do), he saw something peculiar. "Hold on a tick," he said, striding over to where the bag was.

"I already checked the bag," Hermione warned him as she scoured through Harry's comic books and atlases.

Thomas kicked the bag aside and bent down. "How about the floorboards?" Hermione ducked her head out to see Thomas prying away a loose floorboard to reveal a beautiful silver and sapphire diadem. "Basil, darling, you cheated," Thomas scolded with a hint of iron in his voice.

"It was visible," Basil whined from Harry's bag.

"Just barely."

"Listen Greeny," Hermione seethed as she lifted up the bag, "you either give us the extra time to continue the search since you cheated, or I swear on my copy of _The Once and Future King_ that I will find a way to kill you right here and now!"

Inside, Basil whimpered. "Okay, okay, fine. You get an extra fifteen minutes. Happy?" But Hermione wasn't, so she drop kicked the bag across the room in fury. She caught Thomas smiling at her and furrowed her brow.

"What."

"Nothing, I'm just amused. I haven't seen you that angry since-" But Hermione chirped in.

"Since the last time you killed me?" She kneeled over to see the jewelled tiara.

"No, actually. I haven't seen you like that since the first time we truly met." His eyes became glazed over with some melancholic nostalgia, and Hermione knew she would get no further information on the matter. He handed her the diadem and she became overwhelmed by the sensation of weightlessness. She could have sworn she had been shoved and now was floating in the air, yet her feet were on the ground. And then there came the feeling of hurtling towards the ground at an unstoppable speed. Something collided with her skull and she felt the beginnings of the impact before blacking out.

By the time Hermione had came to, Thomas had thrown the diadem to the floor, letting the crown smash into thousands of pieces and surround him in a cloud of blue. She woke up in his arms with him cradling her head.

"Did you break my pretty little crown?" she asked in as joking a manner as she could. She saw his face break slightly, but he gulped and released her.

"The Battle of Carthage in the Third Punic War. We were supposed to sack the city, and you wouldn't let me take something - I don't remember what, now - and so I shoved you away and unfortunately, down a flight of stairs."

"You may as well call me Humpty Dumpty," she teased as she forced herself to stand.

"We should probably keep looking. Even with the extra time we still don't have enough." Hermione nodded in agreement, and they moved to the other side of the store.

"You take that shelf, and I'll tackle this one," Hermione directed.

"Yes ma'am," he consented, being bold enough to even wink at her. Hermione blushed and suddenly became thankful for the dim lighting in the room. She quickly dove into skimming through the books, and was very cognizant of the fact that Thomas had moved over to her shelf to help her.

While he rustled through the boxes on the top shelf, Hermione crouched down to look at the books on the bottom level. Positioning the lights closer to the edge of the shelf, she spied a hole in the wood, exposing the wallpaper on the other side. She tried to peek behind the shelf, but it was nestled tightly against the wall. Hermione shooed the candelabra away and began trying to move the shelf away from the wall.

"What are you doing?" He questioned.

Through clasped teeth, she grunted, "Wallpaper." Knowing what she meant, he shrugged his suit jacket off and joined the effort. In a few minutes, they had moved the shelf enough so that Hermione could duck her head behind it and look at the wallpaper. It was a ragged Victorian style, with a blue background and leafy green trimmings. The aged and peeling paper depicted a stag continuously leaping through the foliage, while a sparrow flew overhead and a fluffy white hair hide underneath the stag's legs. The wall paper notably only covered a portion of the lower wall. Hermione stroked the deer's long neck and felt herself being pulled into another flashback.

 _Hers was supposed to be a story of triumph, not irony. She was supposed to live. After the trial where they had tried to convict of her being a witch, she had been banished. Meant to live her life away from her friends and family, but_ _ **live**_ _none the less. Yet here she was, being accused of being a witch yet again. But these men, these mercenaries, were not giving her a trial. No, they had already viewed her as guilty the minute they laid eyes on her in Roermond's outskirts. And now she was being drowned in the very river she had played in as a child. It had taken three men to hold her down, and an additional one to shove her head under and keep it there. She had thrashed and scratched and tried to scream, but it was to no avail. No one wanted to hear her, so no one did. She blinked up through the murky water at one of the faces that was holding her down. His eyes were so familiar to her, but her head hurt. Soon she couldn't breathe. Everything was growing dark, but his eyes shone out like the stars on a gloomy night._ Θωμάς _, she thought to herself before the water flushed away consciousness and she began to sink in the water._

"Hermione!" Thomas cried out as he pulled her away from the bookshelf, which had exploded as a result of the horcrux being found. Amongst the shelving, books, skulls, and trinkets, sat Harry and Luna, just as they had been when they entered the shop.

"That was fun!" Luna cheered. "Let's do it again!" Wriggling out of Thomas's grasp, Hermione rushed forward and crushed the small girl in a hug. Thomas cautiously approached Harry before bending down on one knee and ruffling the boy's hair. Harry surprised him by wrapping his arms around his neck.

"Close your eyes Harry," Thomas whispered. Harry stood upright and squeezed his eyes shut. Taking a deep breath, Thomas reached his hand into Harry's chest, right where his heart would be. What Hermione and Luna could see of Harry rippled - like a hologram flickering in and out of reality. Thomas tugged out the part of his soul that lived in Harry and clasped it in his hands. The small black mass squirmed around his cupped palms.

"Now what?" Harry asked. The little boy's eyes now shone green in the soft candle light of the room. Lifting his hands up to his lips, Thomas sucked in the soul piece and swallowed it. The red was mostly gone from his eyes now, leaving the palest blue eyes Hermione had ever seen, with small flecks of scarlet near his pupil.

"You're mortal now Harry," Thomas warned, "so no more being reckless and jumping off of the second floor railing."

"I'll just have to find new ways then," Harry smiled mischievously. Thomas gave a very paternal sigh and again ruffled the boy's hair. He then turned towards Hermione.

"That was 1581 in Roermand, a city in southeastern Netherlands. Your name was Kael Merrie, and I volunteered to kill you with my band of mercenaries after the reverend discovered you would only be banished for potential witchcraft."

Hermione didn't really even absorb his words - news or explanation of her death no longer seemed important. She was too busy looking at a glowing object across the room. In a trance of sorts, she moved towards it.

Hermione pressed her hands against the glass and stared fixatedly at the incandescent ring. It was a simple golden band with a meander or "greek key" pattern, but the gem in the center was a diamond shaped stone of black obsidian.

Thomas saw her pawing the cabinet and sped towards her. "Did you find-" he started before noticing the evanescent glow of the ring. "Why is that glowing?"

"It's your shop, not mine." They looked at it for another moment in awe.

"That's the first one," Thomas whispered.

"No, this is the last of the seven horcruxes."

"Αυτὀς ήταν ο αρχικός πεμπτουσιωτής," he explained, and she nodded. _This was the original horcrux._

"Is there a key to unlock it?" She pointed to a rusted keyhole in the glass of the door. He shook his head and dragged a handkerchief from his pant pocket, wrapping it around his fist.

"You aren't going to try to punch the glass, are you? That's stupid, you'll get hurt."

He chuckled, "You're cute when you're concerned for my well-being, but you also forget that I'm still immortal, if only just a little." And with that, he punched the glass. It sprayed out onto the contents of the cabinet but fell in a little halo around the ring. Hermione and Thomas reached out for it at the same time. Their hands brushed but Hermione no longer flinched at his touch. Thomas managed to grab the ring before Hermione and removed it from the case.

"How are you sure that this was the first?" Hermione asked. Thomas held the ring up to the light to marvel at it.

"Because I gave this ring to my wife." Hermione was taken aback by this - he didn't seem like the marrying type.

"May I see?" She held her hand out to receive it, but he instead grabbed her hand and slipped the golden band onto her ring finger, and continued to hold onto the ring (and her hand). It was a perfect fit, and the ring seemed to sing out at this, emitting even more light.

She slipped halfway into a memory, seeing flashes of ancient Greece: _a cliff looking out on the sea, a field of olive trees, a beautiful garden protected by blue tiles, a young Thomas smiling, a ring on her wedding finger, a series of ancient scrolls, Basil emerging from the mists, a dark cave with a glowing cauldron, a panicked face above hers. . ._

Thomas removed his hand and the visions were gone.

"I don't understand," Hermione began. It had all been so strange.

"I can't do this," he murmured. He backed away from her and pressed his palms to his frontal temples in exasperation.

"What are you talking about? We do this, and you're mortal and I can leave. End of problem."

"You don't understand," he barked.

But Hermione trudged on. "Listen, we don't have to do this whole 'soulmates' bit. This can be a fresh start - for both of us. We don't have to interact ever again after this if you don't want to." He scowled down at her, causing Hermione to speed up her speech, "and I promise never to mention any of this shit to anyone."

Thomas took a deep breath. "Hermione. Why do you think that we could only see the visions from the ring when _together_? Why the ring glowed for both of us?" Hermione gazed up at him puzzled.

"You have a horcrux virus? I don't know!"

"Yes you do, stop lying. You were always bad at that," he scolded. Sheepishly, she looked away. "Admit it Hermione. You've known the answer for a while now."

"But it's crazy! Impossible!"

"The only logical reason for any of this," he countered. Hermione sighed and stared up at the ceiling. _This couldn't be the answer. No way in hell._ "Just admit it." He held his hand up, palm facing hers. She mirrored his action and placed her palm against his.

"Because it's _our_ horcrux," she exhaled from trembling lips. He interlocked his fingers with hers, and she lightly placed her fingers over the back of his hand.

"Time's almost up," Basil cautioned.

"This is why I didn't want you to find the shop. Or me, for that matter. I've lost you once, and I'm not ready to go through it again." He gave her hand a soft squeeze, and she felt his heartache. But that didn't justify his previous murders of her.

"You've lost me more than once," she reminded him.

"I lost versions of you. Ones who only remembered fragments of Greece, or fragments of me, or nothing at all. For a long time, I thought the Gods were playing some cruel trick on me because I was another tragic, ironic myth. The man whose wife died as a result of him becoming immortal, and her coming back to haunt his life but never knowing who she was or what happened."

"The horcrux," Hermione tried to remember, "something went wrong during the creation. You had the sacrifice, that girl from Mycena, but . . ." she faltered now, unsure of where the story went from here.

"The scroll was a mistranslation of the original text. I thought I only needed a sacrifice. But the original one from Egypt, which I keep in my office now, says that it's the _reader_ who is the sacrifice."

"So if I died . . ."

"Yes, I took your soul from your corpse to ensure you'd return. But you were never the same - a Frankenstein's monster esque situation. Same body, different life. And it was never until a fatal moment that you remembered."

"But what about Constance?"

"She was very sickly, and therefore always near death."

"Why is it different this time?"

"I don't know," he shook his head. "7 is a magic number, 8 is a bizarre infinity . . ." he tried to rationalize. But logic could not help him here. "The Gods are cruel and the Gods are kind," he restarted, "and perhaps this is their way of letting me officially say good-bye."

"But - but - you'll still get to live after this, right? Because you'll be mortal?" Thomas shrugged.

"Only the Fates know." He removed his fingers from hers and began to follow the pattern embedded in the ring, trailing over it with his forefinger. She grabbed his wrist with her other hand.

"Don't." But he kept going. "Basil, make him stop!" Basil emerged from the glass cabinet but shook her head.

"Fate's hand is stronger than mine."

"The reality is, Basil just wants to retire," he laughed bitterly. "Besides, dying will be an awfully big adventure."

"But that's not fair! This was only supposed to make him mortal, not kill him."

"To be mortal is to know death," Luna quipped. Hermione spun around to gaze at her - she had nearly forgotten about the children. They were sitting on the counter where the register sat, holding hands and swinging their legs to and fro.

"Life isn't fair. Besides, what kind of story would this be if the villain didn't lose?"

"You're being ridiculous."

"And you're being sentimental." He caressed her cheek with his other thumb before kissing her forehead. "Now, help me unlock the ring." Reluctantly, she began to trace the pattern, and he followed suit. Slowly, two wisps of smoke - one dark grey and one light grey - rose up and spiraled around each other. They rose nearly half a foot into the air before colliding together into something solid and exploding out glittery flecks - like a sparkler does.

"Good bye _Θωμά."_

"Good bye. Although, I'd like to think this was a beginning rather than an end." He took her hands in his and looked up into the green light of his soul. Hermione began to feel a strange warmth enter her body as the red flecks embedded themselves in her skin. It felt like an eternity, but soon Thomas's warm hands lost their weight and their heat. She clamped her eyes shut, not wanting to watch the process of his (and her?) departure. Suddenly, she couldn't feel him at all.

When the warmth and lights faded, Hermione felt newly grounded and sturdier. It was not as if she was more complete, but rather like she was more sure of herself. She opened one eye and saw Basil crying unabashedly, gold tears streaming down her cheeks. Hermione blinked and found both Harry and Luna observing her curiously.

"He's-" Hermione started, but the words evaporated from her throat. Luna nodded, and even Harry had begun to cry a little. The girl silently wrapped an arm around him and rested her head on top of his, somehow comforting him without a word.

"Better looking than ever," a voice purred from the landing. Everyone looked up to find Lord Voldemort standing at the top of the stairs in nothing but a pair of jeans. As he walked down the stairs, he tugged on a pale grey sweater. Hermione met him at the bottom of the stairs, hands already flying.

"Arrogant," she slapped his chest with each word, "outlandish, asshole, antique!"

He grabbed her hands mid slap and chuckled, "You almost had an alliteration."

"Prick," Hermione huffed as she pulled away her hands and shoved him.

"Hey, careful now. This 'antique' is now breakable." Harry ran over and barreled into Thomas, near squeezing him to death. Basil floated over and joined the hug. Luna too hopped into the hug, pulling Hermione in as well. Thomas's forehead touched hers and she looked up and smiled.

They could have kissed, but it was a mutually understood concept that they were not ready for that yet. He still had seven murders (although the first had been an accident, really) to make up for, and this was a new life. Frankly, they were really still strangers and needed time to become acquainted with one another. And that was okay. If being alive for thousands of years had taught Voldemort two things, it was that 1: patience was a virtue, and 2: some things are better over time.


	7. Part 7

**Epilogue:**

"Here's one," Hermione exclaimed. Voldemort grabbed the two mugs of hot chocolate he had just made and moved over to the bed. She moved over so that he could see the screen and gratefully grabbed the warm cup.

"Which one?" He asked, eyes scanning over the screen. She pointed on her screen. "Ajax?" He snorted. "Let me see this," he grabbed the laptop from her and placed it in his lap. "Beowulf, Merlin, Paris?" He scoffed. "What did you look up, 'names of classical dipshits'?"

"I actually looked up names inspired by mythology, since you're being so picky about it." She grabbed the laptop back from him.

"If you had to choose your own name you would behave just the same. It's an important thing, choosing a name. It will affect how people perceive me."

"Well, the only name you have chosen right now is Samael-"

"It's not my fault there aren't any modern names pertaining to snakes!"

"Yeah, but Samael is the Angel of Death."

"I think it's fitting," he huffed before sipping his drink.

"Hm, yes. Because nothing makes a _great_ first impression like saying, 'Hi! I'm the Grim Reaper!"

"Be careful, I could feel that eye roll from over here," he teased.

"You need to choose a name," she insisted. "A _sensible_ name. You've been deliberating this for two weeks now, and the Malfoys need the name so they can make all of your documentation."

"What do _you_ think is a 'sensible name?'" he mockingly asked.

"I don't know. Alexander? Edward? George? Philipp? William?"

"So you want me to be a stuffy old prince or a sparkling vampire? Do I really give off that vibe?"

"No!" She laughed. "They're just traditional names."

"Do I look like an Edward?" He asked in fake desperation, bringing her hands up to his face. "Or a Christian? God, no, don't answer that." They both laughed at this.

"You still look like a Tom to me."

"That was my father's name," he grumbled.

"And he's dead. No one will compare the two of you," she coaxed, stroking his hair.

"But it's such a common name!" he whined.

"You could always use Basil," she jested.

"Over my dead body." He countered, angrily swiping a finger through the whipcream from her mug.

"Hey!" But he smiled at her while licking his fingers, and she couldn't help but snicker.

Suddenly, there was a knock on her bedroom door. "Come in," Hermione said. Lavender, her roommate, popped her head in.

"Do you think we still need more drinks for the party tonight? We have more than enough beer, but I'm worried that we don't have champagne. This is supposed to be an engagement party for Cho and Cedric, and-" Lav stopped talking abruptly to blink at Voldemort a few times. "Hello! I'm Lavendar, Hermione's roommate. Or, one of, but that's irrelevant." She waved at Tom who waved back after Hermione subtly nudged his foot. Blocking the part of her mouth that faced him, she mouthed at Hermione. " _Is that the guy?"_

"Lav, this is, uh,-"

"Tom." He smiled at Lavender and the girl was come over by a giddy look.

"Well, at let you two go back to your," she began to waggle her eyebrows, "business." Hermione rolled her eyes but smirked at her friend. "Nice meeting you Tom!" And with that, Lavender closed the door.

"I feel like we should we introduce ourselves," Hermione commented. Tom turned to face her and offered out his hand.

"I'm Tom Riddle." She took his hand and shook it.

"Hermione Granger."

"Hermione Riddle sounds better." He pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed it.

"So does Tom Granger." She pulled her hand away to grab her mug, which she had set down by the bedside table, but made sure to turn around and wink at him.

"Well, we've got time to figure that out." She snuggled into his side and he wrapped his arm around her.

"I suppose we will." Smilingly to herself, she took a fragile sip of hot chocolate. "And Basil owes me fifty euros."

 _ **FIN**_


End file.
